


Love Song of a Dying Man

by sarenka



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Death, F/M, Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Memories, POV Bastien de Ghislain, POV dying man, Romance, Sad Ending, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 20:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21416518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarenka/pseuds/sarenka
Summary: Bastien waits for Vivienne to say few final words before he dies.
Relationships: Bastien de Ghislain/Vivienne
Comments: 24
Kudos: 23





	Love Song of a Dying Man

**Author's Note:**

> TW: character's death.

Bastien de Ghislain has been a powerful man his whole life, but death and disease bring everyone to their knees. The bed is soft and comfortable, but he still can feel the sores on his skin and he barely catches his breath.

He is dying. The end is near. He has never been one to shy away from the truth. 

Nicoline comes to check up on him. She dispenses new instructions to the servants and scoffs at them to open the windows and let the fresh air in. Bastien knows it is fruitless, and that Nicole says it to avoid feeling hopeless. She has been a dear friend, and they have lived a good life together. 

“Viv… ienne?” he asks with a great effort. His voice comes off as raspy. He does not even sound like himself.

“Of course she is coming, Bastien,” Nicoline gently caresses the top of his head. “She will be here in an hour or so.”

He can’t win with death, but he could stall it for an hour, perhaps. The one last game to play, in the name of love. 

How lucky he has been. There has been pain and suffering, like when his dear stupid little Calienne died. He could not save his only daughter. There have been things he would do differently now. Every man needs to admit it in his final hour. Overall, he has gained more than he has lost. 

Vivienne. Out of every blessing he has received, she has been the greatest. He still remembers the first time he saw her, those twenty-six years ago. He noticed her beauty, but there were many beautiful women at the Imperial Wintersend Ball of 9:16. Moreover, women have never been one of his vices. He remembers glancing at her approvingly, and he was just about to turn away when she looked at him for a second, and it surely felt like the lightning strike. He saw grace, he saw ambition, he saw restraint and self-discipline. It could have escaped some, but Bastien has always taken pride in being observant. He saw more. 

Vivienne has always had the most beautiful eyes. 

He asked her for a dance. He did not dance with anyone else that night. Ah, of course he knew he was causing scandal, but what good is the power if a man cannot dance with a woman he chooses?

She moved gracefully, but he could notice the slight missteps of a person not raised to be presented at the court. There was a tinge of blush on her cheeks, but she never allowed herself to show embarrassment. She danced fearlessly. Later on he learned that everything about Vivienne was fearless. 

She has never been truly out of her element. Oh, there are fools in this world. Many have taken her as cold and indifferent, but she has always had passion and hunger for life. To this day, there is nothing indifferent about her. That is why she is with the Inquisition. That is why he will wait for her. The death itself will wait for Vivienne. 

He knew the rumors and gossip after the ball. The hushed whispers, too disgusting to repeat. It has never been that base. It has always been about love. 

Oh, surely Bastien has been proficient at the Game, and Vivienne has had even more talent than him, but there has been anything but truth between them. The reality that the Orlesian Court could not conceive was simple. He fell in love. Perhaps he fell in love with her right there, at the ball, and he has not stopped loving her since, not even for a second of his existence. Even now, when he barely tastes or sees or hears anything, the love he feels still bursts brightly. 

It caused no heartbreak. He and Nicoline have always had a marriage built on respect and friendship, but it was never love, not like that.

He has been so blessed. 

He wooed Vivienne with all the bravado he could muster. He showered her with gifts, he showered her with affections. She accepted it gracefully, but she only fell in love with him when she realized he understood. 

He helped Vivienne to power, not because he could, not to win her body, not to even win her heart. He did that because he recognized someone greater and worthier than himself. 

The best thing Bastien has ever done was to recognize Vivienne for whom she was, from whom she still is. The fearless ambition, the care, the will to change the world. 

Vivienne’s magic has always been something that makes her who she is. The irrefutable, inherent part of her being. Still, Bastien is certain that if Vivienne was a simple merchant in Rivain, she would lead all the other merchants. That is who she is, that is who she has always been. 

She let him love her unconditionally and without restraint. She gave him her heart, too. He cannot recall one single declaration from her that would mark that occasion. One day he looked at her and he knew. 

Vivienne has allowed him to see her, the real her. He has witnessed all her glory and all her beauty and all her power. He has also been there on the rare occasions when she cried, when she was scared, when she was angry, when she was ashamed. She has permitted him to see all that, to see truly her and to know her.

What a gift.

The greatest woman in the world, and he has been the one to learn her soul. 

Years and years have passed and his feelings have remained as strong and as tender as ever. Ah, the coin, the power, the land, the art! None of it could compare. 

Bastien de Ghislain has always been a rich man. The greatest of his riches would be love. 

He can’t go. Not before he sees her one last time. Not before he tastes her lips, not before he feels her fingers on his cheek. 

He is weak, he knows that. He slips in and out already. How odd. His mind seems sharp as ever, and yet everything around him dulls. 

He wants to say those few last words.

“I’m here, my darling”, Vivienne whispers by his side. 

She was not there a moment ago, but suddenly he senses her presence; he sees her perfect face, now dazed by his failing eyes. He tries to take a breath and to speak, but it is the end and his body gives up. 

What could he say? Whatever he has to say, she already knows, but he would like to see her lips curling in a smile at the sound of his voice, one last time. 

Vivienne, oh, Vivienne.

She puts few droplets of a potion into his mouth. His sight becomes sharper, the surrounding sounds clear out. 

Vivienne, his beautiful and fearless Vivienne. 

She brought a parting gift.

“I waited for you, my love,” he says and it hurts him, but at least he speaks. Even death bows down to Vivienne. 

“Of course you have,” she kisses his hand, she kisses his cheeks, she kisses his forehead, she kisses his lips. 

There has never been a more formidable woman. There has never been a more beautiful one. There has never been a luckiest man in all of Thedas. Perhaps there won’t ever be one. 

Vivienne won’t cry. Not now. She will cry later, just as she did in those moments when he was the only one to be with her, in the silence of their bedroom. 

“Do you… remember…?” he barely manages, and he has no strength to finish.

The memories flood him. The first kiss they shared and the first time he saw her naked. The time when she defeated three assassins in one day and then curled up by his side and told him she was afraid. All those nights when they plotted and planned while sitting in the bed and eating pastries. If only anyone knew! The time when she consoled him when he was grieving. The time where she cried and set the painting on fire upon hearing about what happened at the Dairsmund Circle. The time where they both knew she needed to go because the world needed Vivienne. 

What could he say at the end, thanking her for their life together? 

“I remember it all, darling,” Vivienne replies, smiling widely. “All of it.”

“I will wait,” he strains, “by the Maker’s…,” he coughs, “… side.”

“I will join you,” she leans in and kisses him, one last time, bringing him to life, one last time. “But I will be fashionably late.”

He is tired, but he laughs. 

“Vivienne,” he breathes. “It’s going to be all right, my love.”

Death comes quietly, and the last thing Bastien sees are Vivienne’s most beautiful eyes.

Life… has… been… a gift. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have always imagine that what Bastien and Vivienne had was true love.


End file.
